The Nightmare
by Cassandra Recarndo
Summary: This is a story based off of my sims teenaged pregnancy, but I changed it around a little to turn it into more of a life long lesson. The note at the end it because this was for a projects. R&R please!


I don't know how it happened, but the moment the strip on my birth control test turned pink, my life changed. It felt like the whole world was crashing down around me, letting me suffocate in my own guilt. How could I have let this happen to me? I wasn't supposed to get pregnant at sixteen! All the same, when I rapidly gained weight and started craving more and more food, I knew there was no escape. Sure, there was abortion, but I could never do that. Just the thought of it makes me feel like a murderer.

Telling my parents was the worst part. Sure, they didn't blow up at me or banish me from the house, but the disappointment on their faces doubled all of the pain that could have been inflicted upon me if they had yelled. They agreed to help me go through the pregnancy like any normal person, but the same question always burned in my head: what was I going to do with it?

The father probably took it the best and yet the worst way possible. He sympathized. Holding me tight in his large, warm arms, he told me softly that it was all going to be alright in the end. Words cannot begin to describe how much I wanted him to not say that. There was not going to be an end. I was going to die. In telling him this, that was when the explosion came out that I had been preparing for so long. It brought me to tears, his crude words of how I was an idiot to even think of that. They were good tears, though. The ones that you release when you're all alone and you just need a good cry. He comforted me again, and we both decided that we would give the child to adoption. Even that made my heart pang at the thought of again giving away my child.

After the first week was over, the time seemed to fly by, and I was already three months into my pregnancy. There was a noticeable bump on my stomach, but I called it a badge of honor. The nausea that was present at the first stage of my pregnancy was now gone, but replaced with the emotion of dread: dreading the day that I would have to hand over my child to some random stranger. At school, I was a freak. A complete outcast after they noticed my belly. Sure, I still had my best friend, Sam, to comfort me as she had throughout the entire three months, but it wouldn't have hurt to have other people on my side. Worse of all, the father of my child wasn't permitted to even come close to me. His parents were ashamed of him and wanted me out of their lives. He tried to see me at school, but being a year older than I, there was very little time for us to be together.

About another two months later, I was spending time with the father, holding each other for what seemed like the first time in a long time. It all seemed so right, with his arms around my small frame, both of our hands over my stomach, and my head on his chest. We were enjoying the moment, when I realized that the baby had not moved in quite a long time. Concerned, he immediately brought me to the hospital to be check out. While the father called my parents and Sam, the doctor's face had a grim expression creeping over his smile. The same feeling I had when I found out I was pregnant came over me when he noticed the wetness on my pants. My uterus had torn, and the baby was dying.

Labor was the hardest thing I could have ever done in my life. It was ten hours long, and each push was harder than the next. My vision was becoming hazy, and I could barely make out my family rushing into the room. There was a sudden spill of water on my face, and by the salty taste the liquid left in my mouth, I knew I was crying. My pushes came out in rhythm to my sobs, each lurch triggering more and more tears. It wasn't the pain that was causing this; it was the fact that I knew that neither of us was going to make it. As soon as the words, "It's out!" rang in my ears, I permitted myself to fall asleep. It wasn't until the next morning, when the sun rays from the window pooled onto my face to make my eyes flutter open, that I saw my child.

When my mother passed the immature baby to me, it was no bigger than both of my palms together. People kept trying to apologize for my loss, saying words of comfort, but I could not hear them. I was mesmerized by the thing in my arms that could have been the most beautiful thing on earth. Mostly all of its features represented mine, down to the fluff of dark brown hair to the brown of its eyes, which were glazed over like it was day dreaming. I felt my lips began to tremble as I noticed the blue lips, the purple tinge to its tan skin, but I held in my sobs. Closing my eyes, I held the child to my breast, stroking its cold head as if it was still alive. As the doctors took the corpse of the new born away, though, I had to accept the fact that my child was gone. Never to be held to my blouse to be fed. Never to utter the words "mama" or "dad". Never to look me in the eyes and tell me how much it loved me. That day, and emptiness grew in my heart that I knew nothing could ever repair.

I was discharged from the hospital that day. I walked out with everyone to our family car, but my mind was elsewhere. For the first time, I was starting to realize what life meant. Life can be living it up, getting drunk and making love to your boyfriend, only to find that you're pregnant. Life can be living a life at home, simmering with guilt at the fact that you have screwed up your life. Life can also be losing someone that you only knew for a few moments, and learning everything that life could have ever taught you in that moment. Losing my baby will always be the center of my life, but that doesn't mean I should sit around in my house, never to live again. When I held my child, I realized that even though I lost almost everything in that moment, I will still be able to go on. I'm still sixteen; I have a long life I need to live. Who knows, maybe I'll marry my boyfriend after college and start a proper family. Maybe I'll go to a college and write a book. All I know right now, though, is that my baby, who is now cremated into the ashes that are hidden in my necklace, has taught me the lesson that you hear every day of your life, but my baby has given a new meaning to the phrase, "Live life to the fullest."

**Disclaimer** Please do note that this is a fictional story. It was based off of a dream that I had, but since it was so powerful, I decided to write it down as for you to evaluate my writing skill.


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